


My Fate Was In Your Hands

by rainonmyback



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, The Deadlights, True Love, im sad abt my boys so herreeee take this pwease, this just.....hurts, well....kind of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainonmyback/pseuds/rainonmyback
Summary: "His secret. His dirty, all-consuming secret. The secret that makes his heart feel like it’s collapsing and dancing all at once."What Richie sees in the deadlights + some self reflection.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 30





	My Fate Was In Your Hands

Fire. That’s what it honest to God felt like was surrounding Richie Tozier. A great ring of fire, wafting its heat around his skin, not close enough to burn but just enough to make him clench his jaw. 

  
The Deadlights, they were filling his brain, flooding it with a blinding, cruel, evil light. It was inescapable. 

All of his senses were completely warped. He couldn’t understand what was physically happening to him, let alone mentally or spiritually, or any of that shit that Richie has really no belief in. At least, not anymore. How can you believe in a (at least forgiving) God after having to face the abomination that is It? _How?_ Richie couldn’t, not as the boy he once was and not as the man he is now. Not at the shitty Derry arcade, the one he hated himself for believing was actually safe, feeling the fear running fast and heavy in his veins as his child self was humiliated and tormented. Not back at his washed up, cringe-inducing stand up routines that he would try to forget later in shady bars tucked away in the corners of cities. Not now, being enveloped in the very pits of Hell that was known as The Deadlights. 

But, maybe he could believe in fate. Maybe he did at one point as that motormouth child, spewing off dozens of jokes and jabs by the minute, making his friends giggle, fixating on one particularly cute laugh. Maybe he did in his teen years, his hand pleading him to hold another’s, specifically one who has that firecracker tone and a set of dreamy, sweet, brown eyes. Maybe he did when he walked into that restaurant, aged and empty, immediately feeling that warmth on his cheeks and those butterflies in his stomach flutter as he saw those eyes once more. Maybe, just maybe. 

The lights began to shine even brighter, somehow. Richie began to hear faint music, humming the right side of his ear. It came closer, almost slithering inside his head, the words beginning to become clear and rich. 

  
_**Eddie, my love, I love you so.** _  
_**How I've waited for you, you'll never know.** _  
_**Please, Eddie, don't make me wait to long.** _

  
That song. That fucking song. It was the same song he listened to in his adolescence, late at night, staring at his ceiling, mouthing the words he could never, ever utter. The song that played in his head as he carved those initials onto the Kissing Bridge. His secret. His dirty, all-consuming secret. The secret that makes his heart feel like it’s collapsing and dancing all at once. The song rang out all throughout his body as he tasted a faint hint of blood in the back of his throat. 

It was too much, far, far too much. The scorching heat began kissing at what Richie perceived to be his fingertips. He couldn’t really tell if he had a body at this point, The Deadlights being all he could tell as true. But, then, he saw something—someone. He saw him, Edward Kasprak, right smack-dab in the middle of the hellish The Deadlights. His features were a little fuzzy, a little watered down, but it was still Eddie. He was covered in the sewer’s shit from the chest down, a smile on his face as the bright lights outlined his figure. It was a gorgeous sight to Richie. Afterall, Eddie would always be a gorgeous sight to him. 

  
_**Eddie my love, I'm sick in bed.** _  
_**The very next day might be my last.** _  
_**Please Eddie don't make me wait too long.** _

The lights flickered, a rumbling following it. Richie felt limp and weak. So, so weak. So, so exhausted. Eddie’s smile dimmened, his eyes becoming dull and cold. That’s when a thought hissed in his brain, telling him this wasn’t right, this wasn’t Eddie. It wasn’t. Richie felt sick. 

The lights flickered again, and Eddie’s skin turned ghostly pale. 

**_But all I do is cry myself to sleep._ **  
**_Eddie, since you've been gone._ **

Dark blood spilled out of The Deadlight’s Eddie’s mouth, an ungodly scream escaping him as he gargled and gagged out Richie’s name. Richie couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch and listen to Eddie’s cries, begging for him to save him. He begged fate to let him, to take his place—even if this Eddie was just an illusion—to take his pain away, to make this all stop. The blood continued to flow out of the man as he let out more painful shrieks, drenching his shirt and pants in a horrid red. 

_**Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long.** _

Richie’s skin felt inches away from the fire. The lights began to fade out, becoming dimmer and dimmer with every shaky breath he took. Another rumble wracked out around Richie, and, just like that, he was back in the world, back in IT’s dark nest. His head was throbbing as he squinted, Richie feeling as if he was just turned completely inside out. He opened his eyes, and Eddie was there. _His_ Eddie. His motherfucking cute, cute, cute, Edward Eds Eddie Spaghetti Kasprak, right above him, not choking out blood, not begging for Richie to save him. It felt like a miracle, a true bonafide miracle. Richie was, once again, reminded of what it was like to believe in fate. 

Eddie was screaming. Richie couldn’t understand what he was saying, the world buzzing as he stared up at Eddie. His ears did manage to catch one thing amongst all of the chaos.

“I think I got it!”

And then, the worst came. One of IT’s monstrous spider-like spears stabbed Eddie, going right through him like a kebab, practically ripping his chest open. Blood— _his blood_ —splattered out, a bit of it decorating Richie’s glasses. Richie finally understood what people meant when they said the word heartbroken, he could feel the shards in his chest. In the most devastating whimper, Richie’s name was uttered under Eddie’s breath as his entire body shook with pain and shock, some blood gushing out of his trembling mouth. It was one of the quickest and slowest things to ever happen to Richie. And all he could do was watch and listen as his first and only love was destroyed right in front of him. 

Richie didn’t believe in fate. He never will again. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i hope u enjoyed this! comments and kudos are appreciated!!


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